by Various
She frowned. "Of course I can." She tried not to sound defensive. She certainly didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much he affected her.
"I’ll take your word for it. So how about being ready for me at nine tomorrow morning? I won’t invade your room. You can meet me in the lobby."
He surrounded her with his presence and his personality, taking command in a way she’d never seen anyone do before. At least not without an insufferable degree of arrogance. Rafe Morales had a natural self-confidence that came from being totally comfortable in his own skin. And probably successful at what he did. Whatever that might be.
She managed a grin. "I suppose if I say no you’ll track me down anyway."
"Now you’re thinking, sugar."
In a way, it felt nice not to have to hold all the reins for once. Make the arrangements. Make all the decisions.
She sighed again. What could it hurt? Maybe she needed this kind of a change in her life, sexually and otherwise. At least for two days. And maybe she’d really enjoy it.
"Thanks. And I’m staying at The Driskell."
He whistled. "Big expense account."
She couldn’t help grinning. "And I earn every penny of it. So nine o’clock. I’ll be in the lobby. How should I dress?"
"What you’re wearing today is fine. Only we need to get you some boots with heels that won’t poke a man’s eye out or cripple you if you walk too far in them."
She let the remark about her boots go. Maybe she’d let him talk her into another pair.
"And we won’t do anything related to Christmas." She wanted to make sure. The holiday spirit managed to find its way into everyone at some time or other.
"Now, you sound like the Grinch," he teased. "You against Christmas?"
"Only this year. So. Like we agreed. Tomorrow morning. In the lobby. No Christmas surprises and you’re on."
He brushed his thumb over her lips again. "Not yet, sugar, but soon. Very soon."
Chapter Three
Rafe had made a comment about the size of her expense account allowing her to use The Driskell Hotel for her stay and she’d quickly pointed out that yes, she had a large one, and more than that, she’d earned it. Her work brought in a lot of revenue for Cascade Designs and they compensated her appropriately. When Jesse Grier relocated to Chicago from Seattle, he had kept the name of the firm, named for the Cascade Mountains, and no one seemed to think it odd. People constantly told her it had a nice musical sound.
O-kay. Whatever pleased them.
Jesse hired her right out of architectural school and her ability to absorb the history of places and blend that history with the needs of the client, had earned them many awards. And big fat fees.
So when she traveled, places like the Driskell were her destination home away from home. Built in 1886 as the showplace of cattle baron Jesse Driskell, people acknowledged it as a legendary landmark in Texas hospitality. Historic events had taken place in the elegant hotel, such as inaugural balls for governors and the election night party for Lyndon Johnson. As a member of The Historic Hotels of America and Associated Luxury Hotels International, it offered an elite level of luxury accommodations, amenities and services that made its guests feel cared for and pampered.
Too bad they don’t have an amenity for a broken life.
But as soon as the thought popped into her head she pushed it away. She didn’t have a broken life--bent a little, maybe, but she wouldn’t let Chad Sullivan’s betrayal ruin it and give him more power than he deserved. And maybe she saw that as her excuse for what happened last night. The memories of it might be why she tossed and turned so much, wondering how she’d let herself fall under his spell that way, embarrassed at the way her body responded.
But somehow she had let herself be completely captivated by an extremely sexy man. And in a very few minutes, that same man would meet in the hotel lobby and whisk her off for some unknown adventure. Her brain told her this could be a mistake, but the sensuous memories from the munch told her to take a chance. Any misgivings she ruthlessly buried.
How long had it been since she’d forgotten about rules and done something outrageous, anyway? So what if Rafe Morales thought he could turn her into a switch? He couldn’t, but it might be fun to let him try.
Checking her watch, she freshened her lipstick, took one last look in the mirror and let herself out of the suite. A ribbon of anticipation danced through her as she headed down the hall to the elevator. She was about to do something she hadn’t done for a very long time—go with the flow.
* * * *
Rafe parked his very fancy truck across the street from the hotel and dodged traffic to get to the entrance. He smiled as he walked into the lobby. Only in Texas could you walk into a luxury hotel in jeans and boots and not have someone turn up their nose at you. He’d risen early, anticipation at the day buzzed through his system.
Bree Donovan offered a challenge he couldn’t resist, a Domme unaware she had some latent submissive tendencies. Witness her reaction to him yesterday at the munch, and her response during the performance. Like some horny teenager he had sniffed his fingers as he drove home, inhaling her essence. Wishing there hadn’t been a barrier of denim and he’d been able to plunge them directly into her soaked pussy.
Oh, yeah. She intrigued him more than any woman he’d met in a long time. And he’d certainly had a string of them. He’d been a dedicated Dom for years. He liked being in complete control of every aspect of his life. Calling all the shots, and he always selected his women from those he met at munches or through other Doms, for that reason. Whether they were submissive for an hour, an evening or completely in the life, they fulfilled that need he had for control.
But none of them had that extra something Bree Donovan seemed to have. An elusive quality that not only made his cock stand up and beg, but affected other parts of his body, like his heart, a weird reaction after knowing her for only a few hours. That in itself was an aberration, because he liked his life the way he had it arranged. He didn’t want a fulltime sub, a woman to share every aspect of his life with. He enjoyed his independence. None of the women he knew, even those he’d known for years, couldn’t come close to touching his emotions. He’d have to keep a tight lid on with Bree, or she could do serious damage. She’d be gone and he’d be left to pick up the pieces.
Take it for what it is, Morales. A Domme to submit to you? How often did that come along? Enjoy the moment. You may not get another one like it.
The lobby of the hotel certainly set the tone for the Christmas season. Christmas carols played very softly in the background from discreetly hidden speakers. A huge tree sat to one side, adorned with what could be some of the most expensive ornaments in Austin. Wreaths with gold ribbon woven through them were hung tastefully throughout the area, and every employee wore a green jacket and a red Santa hat. Bree had complained about the abundance of Christmas spirit. The hats might overdo it a little, but he wondered what had soured her on the holiday season. He’d added it to his list of items to learn about her today.
He just lifted his watch to check the time when he spotted the elevator doors opening and saw her striding toward him with her sexy long legs. Her height, a definite plus. He liked not having to bend way over to speak to a woman. Or kiss them. Or anything else. And she carried it well. Her pale gold hair hung loose about her shoulders, the way she’d worn it yesterday. She’d paired her jeans with a top made of deep green and even from this distance he could see it brought out the color of her eyes.
She walked with confidence, and the jeans clung to her long legs and the soft fabric of the blouse outlined her breasts. His hands itched to cup them and rub his thumbs across her nipples.
Later. Don’t rush it. Especially not here in public.
He noticed she still sported those boots with the damn needle-nosed heels. Well, first on their agenda would be a little shopping to remedy that.
"Hi. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. I h
ate being late."
Her greeting came out in a rush of breath. She smiled, but he sensed a tension in her, as if she’d put a guard in place. He had the feeling that wasn’t anything new for her and wondered what had happened in her life that she felt it necessary to adopt that stance.
"Actually," he grinned, "I believe you’re right on time."
"Okay, then. Good. I’m ready for whatever." For a brief moment she looked uncertain. "I think."
"I’d say you definitely are." He took her hand, casually, not making a big deal about it and hoping she didn’t either. "As soon as we remedy one thing?"
"Oh?" She frowned. "What’s that?"
He pointed at her feet. "New boots. No self respecting Texan would walk around in those things."
"In case you didn’t notice, I’m not a Texan."
"I know." Yet. "Maybe we’ll remedy that."
"In two days? I like the size of your ego."
She laughed, a musical sound that shot right through him. This woman could be dangerous to his health. Certainly to his cock. He’d have to be very careful to make sure that all they had over the next two days was a lot of fun.
He guided her across the street to his truck and boosted her up into the passenger side of the cab, forcing himself not to run his palm over the curve of her ass when he did so.
"Is it a rule in Texas that every truck has to be built for giants?" She grinned as she fastened her seat belt.
"We consider them normal size." He turned the key and cranked the engine. As he pulled out smoothly into the traffic he asked, "Feel like a Texas-sized breakfast, or are you one of those women who believe a spoonful of granola and half a peach is the right way to start the day?"
"Not to burst your bubble, but some days that’s all I have time for. But when I get a chance, I enjoy a good meal."
"That’s what I like to hear. I have a place I want to take you and we can kill two birds with one stone."
"Oh? What birds are those?"
"Feeding you and getting you some new boots."
"New boots?" From the corner of his eye he saw her lift one foot and examine her footwear. "The salesman assured me these were high fashion for Texas."
Rafe laughed. "I’m thinking the salesman took a good look at you, estimated the size of your credit card and decided he had a live one."
"You think I’m that gullible?" Nothing about her tone sounded like teasing. Maybe even a little angry. Irritated, at the very least.
"Not at all." He reached over and rested a palm on her thigh, waiting for her reaction. When she didn’t say anything he left it there. "But look at it this way. You probably shopped in one of the stores near the hotel. High dollar store. High dollar customer from a high dollar hotel. You made his day. Those boots wouldn’t do you much good in the stirrups or plowing through manure."
She burst out laughing, the same musical sound he remembered from the day before. "If you’re going to drag me through manure piles, maybe I should rethink this expedition."
He squeezed her thigh. "Nope. Saving that for another time. I only take special people to my piles of cow dung."
"Do you have much?" she asked. "Cow dung, that is. I don’t even know what you do for a living."
"Maybe I’m nothing but a bum hanging out," he teased.
"Mmm, I don’t think so." She shifted slightly in her seat but he noticed she still didn’t move his hand away. "Is it some kind of big secret?"
"No. Not really." He blew out a breath. Why did he always hate telling women what he did? Because he wasn’t romanticized like ranchers and cowboys were? "I’m a venture capitalist."
She remained silent for so long he slid a glance at her, his grip tightening on the wheel.
"Bree? It’s not like being a bank robber, you know."
She burst out laughing. "I’m sorry, Rafe. It’s just that I had this image of you in my mind, and sitting behind a desk in a suit and tie didn’t happen to be a part of it."
He gave a rueful chuckle. "No problem. I don’t usually wear them. The people I do business with aren’t looking for that kind of formal environment."
"What kind of people?" He could hear the curiosity in her voice. No, not a polite question to make small talk. She sounded really interested.
"Some of my clients are people establishing new breeding programs. Developing hybrid strains of different kinds of grain. Providing specialty services to ranchers. Breeders. Trainers. All kinds of things."
"Have you been doing it long?"
"About twenty years. I started out carrying the water for two guys with a lot of money. They liked the way I shuffled their papers and began cutting me in on some of their deals. And here I am, all these years later."
"And here you are." She fell silent for a moment. "Well. I’ve worked with venture capitalists before, but not in those areas. Maybe while I’m here, you can tell me more about it."
"I think you must be the first woman I’ve been with who showed the least bit of interest."
"You’ve obviously been with the wrong kind of women, then."
And damn straight about that.
"Okay, we’re here." He wheeled the truck into a strip mall and eased into a parking space.
"Here where?"
"Come on. You’ll love it."
He helped her to jump down from the cab, grinning when she teetered on the thin spike heels.
"Don’t say it," she warned.
He swallowed his grin.
Bite Me, the restaurant, had drawn him the first time because of its name and after that, because of its food, some of the best he’d ever eaten. He watched Bree devour a typical Texas breakfast with pure enjoyment. Very few women packed away a meal like that. They were always too worried about gaining an ounce of fat. No matter how much he told them he liked his women soft enough to sink into, somehow they never believed him.
But watching Bree gave him such pure pleasure. Slouched in the seat across from her, he let himself visualize her naked in his house, maybe kneeling on a cushion beside his chair while he fed her each bite of food from his hands. Maybe he’d take some of the thick cream gravy and spread it on her breasts before licking it off one dollop at a time. Or lift her up to the table and decorate her pussy with it then eat his fill, slowly savoring each taste.
As casually as possible, he shifted in his seat, adjusting his jeans so his cock, which had stood up at attention during his fantasy, would have a little more room to breathe.
"Wow." Bree leaned back in her seat. "I think that’s the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten."
"Stick around, and I can see to it you get a few more." He coaxed, only half joking.
Her eyes widened. "Are you asking me to stay here longer? Rafe, we don’t even know each other."
"That’s what today and tomorrow are all about."
"Besides, you don’t impress me as a man who likes to go without sex, and I don’t play the submissive role very well."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Ever tried it?"
She shook her head. "It never appealed to me."
He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "Then don’t knock it. Yet." He slid out of the booth. "Come on. We have to get you some decent footwear."
He figured she’d expected a high-end store that stocked Tony Lama, Lucchese and Dan Post. But in this same strip center. he’d found a specialty shop where a woman he’d once spent time with, made boots that combined durability with style. Nita Harmon smiled when he walked in. The smile faltered a little when she saw Bree with him, but then her professional face fell smoothly into place.
"We’ll fit you with a real pair of Texas boots."
Bree glanced from him to Nita and back again, instinctively reading the situation. But when Nita headed to the stock room in the back Rafe shook his head at her and mouthed the words, past history.
He gave Nita credit. She remained completely professional and worked her magic to find the perfect footwear for Bree. At the end of an hour she walked out with her high fash
ion boots in a box and wearing new ones in faded blue with a wild horse design and low block heels for easy walking.
"Now isn’t that better?" he asked when they were back in the truck.
She let out a slow breath. "I have to admit you’re right. Thank you for taking me there. My feet thank you, too."
She remained quiet as he drove out of Austin and he wondered what she was thinking.
"She used to be one of your subs." She didn’t pose it as a question.
"Yes. We had a good run together, but she knew from the beginning we weren’t in it for the long haul."
Another pause.
"Did you ever, you now, have someone that you wanted to make it permanent with?"
More than a causal question, he tried to answer it as truthfully as possible.
"Not really. Some of my relationships have lasted longer than others. But I’ve been pretty set in my ways and a long-term relationship hasn’t figured into my life."
Until now. And how can I even think that in such a short span of time? We don’t even know each other, as she pointed out.
When she didn’t say anything more he asked, "What about you? Someone you planned for the future with?"
"Maybe." He had to strain to hear her. "But a mistake. On my part. One I won’t repeat."
Uh oh. Bad history could be a bitch to get past.
But the prize would be worth it. He hoped.
"Let me ask you another question. I know you’re a Domme; it’s obvious from your attitude. But have you ever thought about switching?" he lowered his voice. "Last night you didn’t run away from my control."
This time she took so long to answer him he wondered if he’d made a mistake asking her.
"I was—intrigued," she said at last.
"Intrigued enough to think about taking it further?"
If she said no he’d respect her wishes. But damn, he badly wanted her spread out on his bed, blindfolded, restrained, while he took his time eating her pussy. Or on her knees, hands cuffed behind her, sucking his cock after he’d paddled her ass. And then fucking that same sweet ass. Turning herself completely over to him for his pleasure. And for the pleasure he’d give her in return.
